


Cyrus McCree, Bounty Hunter

by SadakoTetsuwan



Series: McHanzo Week 2016 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Future, Day 3, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, McHanzo Week 2016, Next Generation, Secret family, Secret noodle dragons, This totally counts right?, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: Overwatch has settled into its new niche in the world, operating on the fringes of public acceptance, recruiting soldiers, scientists, adventurers and oddities looking to operate with a little less international interference. Under the strategic guidance of Strike Commander Song, Overwatch has gained significant ground against Talon. It's only natural that they would start to retaliate. Old friends have begun to disappear with alarming speed. Understandably, Overwatch has grown suspicious. All the while, a lone figure is rowing out to the Watchpoint...





	

“Intruder detected,” Athena announced, “Currently scaling the perimeter fence on the southeast side of the base.”

“What? How did they manage that? How did they land?” Winston asked, pushing his glasses up and frowning at the satellite feeds and radar around the island. Nothing…

“I am not detecting any unusual activity in the Strait,” Athena replied, “It is possible they stowed away on a shipping or fishing vessel to reach the base. Perimeter breached,” she continued.

“Commander! Can you make contact?”

“Heh, no problem,” Hana’s voice replied over the comm, already hurrying to the hangar where her MEKA rested, folded down in its most compact form. A tap at her wrist link and it awoke with a cheerful little tune, the hatch popping open for her to climb inside. “MEKA activated. Stream engaged,” she added, winking up at the camera. “Annyeong, everybody, especially my loser teammates who left me and Winston here to defend the base all by our lonesome. D.Va here, and _I’m_ off to go score some solo kills.”

“Will you ever stop doing this?” Winston sighed into the comm, watching the livestream from her cockpit.

“Gamer 4 lyfe,” she grinned, gunning the boosters and rocketing out of the hangar. The air around the base was salty and warm as always, but altogether peaceful, save for the compact strike MEKA darting about.

“Athena, do you have a visual on the intruder?” Hana asked, frowning through the canopy of her mech.

“Negative. My best guess is that they are heading for the launch pad. I am having difficulty finding them on the security cameras.”

“Got it—thanks!” she smiled, her MEKA stomping loudly toward the pad. Her cannons made a rather threatening noise as they warmed up, her gaze scanning along the edge of the platform and the sheer cliffs on the east side of the base. As the minutes ticked by, however, she grew paranoid. Cautiously, she leaned over the edge, firing downward blindly.

“Come on,” she growled, sweeping her sights along the platform edge before swinging back and firing along the high cliff face. Nothing.

“Are you _sure_ they’re—”

The canopy of her cockpit cracked as a high-caliber round struck it, a warning light helpfully lighting up to alert her to the attack.

“Contact!” she cried, swinging around and activating her defense matrix, her gaze sweeping the cliff face again. “Where’d you go, you son of a—”

Another round struck her suit from a much lower angle, the damage readout indicating it had pierced deep, coolant leaking out onto the landing pad.

“He’s on the move! I can’t get a bead on him. Athena, can you give me anything? Video feed? Infrared?”

“I will give you what I can, but infrared video will not be much help,” Athena stated, “The sun has been heating everything up all day.”

“Winston, can you pull anything useful from that infrared data?”

“I can try!”

“I am detecting motion on the launch tower,” Athena stated.

“He’s definitely a sniper,” Hana complained, her matrix deactivating and powering her canons back up, scanning along the launch tower. There were so many support struts and crossbars, it was hard to tell if there was something there that shouldn’t be. Her gaze narrowed as the afternoon sun caught something shiny, and she fired by reflex.

The canopy shattered with a loud alarm as her target traded another shot with her. Swearing under her breath, she flicked the Autofire switches before the ejection system launched her away, a few seconds worth of cannon fire continuing before three more sniper rounds shredded the cockpit and the MEKA fell limp.

“Damnit!” Hana spat, firing toward the tower with her side-arm futilely, knowing there was no way she’d have the sort of accuracy to even touch a sniper. As she was reloading, however, she heard it. The sound of something heavy and organic slipping and tumbling painfully from its platform for a considerable distance before catching itself. Lucky shot, but she’d take it.

She ducked behind a stack of pipes and tapped away at her wristlink, calling up a Geobukseon MEKA rather than her typical model. With sniper rounds that high-powered, she needed armor more than speed.

“This is an Overwatch base. You are trespassing on restricted property,” Hana called out, “Come out with your hands up, or we will be forced to take extreme measures.”

“Seems t’ me like y’all’re already takin’ some extreme measures,” a slow drawling voice replied, though with no small amount of pain. “What say we lay down arms n’ chat real sensible-like?”

Hana dared to poke her head out from behind her cover, peering around. She didn’t see the owner of that voice, and quickly ducked back—granted, he hadn’t taken the shot when she poked, but she wasn’t going to give him time to reconsider. She looked down at her wristlink—just a few minutes more, and her MEKA would be ready to drop. She could stall until then…

“Sounds fair. I’m coming out,” she called, holstering her pistol and raising her hands above her meager cover, long enough to not surprise a twitchy sniper with any further movement. She stepped out, her face set as she raked her eyes along the launch tower, searching for her new conversation partner.

A form in a dull, worn duster coat dropped from the tower and tucked into a roll, a heavy-caliber rifle cradled to his chest. She noticed how the coat’s color shifted as he moved—active camouflage. That explained a lot. He rose slowly, casually, as if he were getting out of bed at 10:30 on a Saturday morning, and shouldered his rifle with a slight flinch. Hana could see a hole in the arm of his coat, the blood standing out starkly against the camo. He reached up with a gloved hand to adjust his black broad-brimmed hat, the entire motion giving her a sudden jolt of deja vu. When his dark eyes rose, however, he was staring down the barrel of a pistol.

“Oh c’mon, now, that ain’t fair. Ain’t Overwatch got rules?”

“You infiltrated my base and blew up my MEKA,” Hana spat, “You don’t get to complain about the rules now.” He pouted and considered his options when something about her pistol caught his eye—the cutest little bunny charm hanging off of the grip.

“Hold on, now, are you Hana Song?” the young man asked, looking almost star-struck as he looked from the charm to the woman in front of him.

“Yes, I’m _Strike Commander_ Song,” she replied, looking slightly irritated.

“Shiiit, my Daddy told me all ‘bout you!” he exclaimed, his face lighting up. “Name’s Cyrus McCree,” he said, thrusting a hand out and grinning in an all too familiar way.

“McCree?” Hana gaped, a smile coming to her face as well as she holstered her pistol and grabbed his hand, all concerns about her MEKA forgotten. “I didn’t know McCree had a son!”

“Ha! Prolly didn’t wanna damage that reputation o’ his,” Cyrus winked, adjusting the strap of his rifle on his injured shoulder.

“Which reputation would that be?” Hana asked, giggling in return.

“Oh, I think most of ‘em’d be tarnished by the notion of him with rugrats back home,” he replied, swiping the hat from his head and holding it over his heart in one clean motion, a mock-pained expression on his face. Hana laughed at the mere thought of a totally domestic McCree, changing diapers or watching the same episode of some cartoon for the 87th time in a row or sitting in on a PTA meeting.

“What’s he up to these days?” Hana asked, her heart sinking as Cyrus’s expression fell.

“Well now...that there’s why I come here,” he said, his brow creased with worry. “See, my Daddy’s gone missing.”

“Missing?” Hana repeated, her eyes going wide. If there was anyone who she was sure Talon wouldn't be able to get their slimy claws on...   “Since when?”

“Been pert’ near three weeks. First thought he might jes’ be on a bender, but they ain't seen him down the drunk tank. I done tracked ‘im far as I could, but damn if he ain’t good—hard t’ find a man what ain’t never wanted t’ be found before,” Cyrus sighed.

“So what does this have to do with us? McCree retired, like, twenty years ago,” Hana replied, crossing her arms. ‘To be with his family,’ she remembered—he’d been awfully coy about it, but McCree had at least admitted he was leaving to start a family. And she knew Cyrus was right about McCree being hard to track—she and Lucio had done their best sleuthing after he left, trying to find as many juicy details about his new married life as they could to fuel the gossip trade, but they’d come up empty-handed. He’d simply disappeared as soon as he got off the sonic jet in New York.

But if he was among the missing... 

“Well, he told me a thing or two ‘bout a thing or two...Overwatch agents got them, biometric monitors?” Cyrus ventured, wiggling his fingers as if he could tease the shape of the implant out of the late afternoon haze. “Reckon y’all might be able t’ reactivate n’ help me track ‘im down that-a way.” Hana sucked on her teeth, frowning.

“Might be tough—we’ll have to ask Winston about it. See if we even have reactivation codes and frequencies for implants that old…” she mused. She knew it wouldn't be that easy, but the last thing she wanted to do was shoot down this kid's hope. “And we should patch up your arm,” Hana added, nodding to the steadily leaking hole.

“Whut? Oh, that ain’t nothin’ but a mosquito bite,” he grinned, “It can wait.”

“It’s a bullet hole,” Hana replied firmly.

“Darlin’, I’d barely call them bullets, what that pea-shooter got.”

“Well if my gun is so pathetic, how did I manage take you down?” she asked, huffing childishly.

“I done slipped!” he replied a little too quickly, shoving his hat down on his head and hiding his face beneath the brim.

“Whatever,” she replied, waving off his excuse. “Either way, let’s get you inside. We’re on a mission to find Jesse McCree!” she grinned, pumping her fist and strolling back into the base, Cyrus in tow.

He trailed a short distance behind her, his hand rising to clutch at the wound in his arm, carefully peeling his coat down his shoulder to examine the damage. His arm would be fine--Dr. Ziegler could handle that, he knew. But the emptiness he felt--the shock that had knocked him from his perch in the first place--could only be ignored for so long. The hole that had been torn through the back of the indigo dragon winding down his shoulder made his blood run cold.

...Otou-san was going to kill him.


End file.
